


For Life

by ElusiveBurglar



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Also dancer Winwin, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Based on a Twitter story, Butterfly Winwin, Depression, Divergent Timelines, Football | Soccer Player Nakamoto Yuta, Lots of Angst, M/M, Suicide, T for swear and curse, They're somehow related, Two Endings, title is from EXO's song, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElusiveBurglar/pseuds/ElusiveBurglar
Summary: After Yuta's unexpected breakup and the following suicide, Sicheng travels back to the last days of Yuta to find out what has really happened, what he has neglected over the years. And maybe, he could rewrite the destiny.OrIt's a story about love for life.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustCallMeJo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustCallMeJo/gifts).



Beijing is having its Christmas snow all over the place, when Sicheng finally receives the news. He tightens his heavy beige wool coat to prevent the cold and reaches out to catch the snowflake. With his beautifully slim and tall figure standing in the bustling crowd, surrounded by Christmas trees and mistletoes seen everywhere, this poetic scene was almost like directly taken from a music video of the song Sicheng used to madly love.

 

_Was it Miracles in December?_

 

Yeah, it should be one because he hasn’t spared one single tear. He remembers what his acting teacher had taught him. ‘Under extreme sorrow, people are actually astonishingly numb at the beginning instead of crying out loud. The emotion is gradually piling up until the final explosion. That’s the natural way of portraiting sorrow.’ In his case, it’s absolutely true.

 

Floating back to his temporary shelter like a wandering ghost, Sicheng digs out his key and open the door like a robot. An enormous void suddenly swallows him. Despite the fact that the heating melts the snow on his shoulder and hair, and the familiar sakura-scented candle hasn’t burnt out, this place just doesn’t smell like home, nor warm like one.

 

Because he is not here.

Because he is gone for good.

Because that fucking Nakamoto Yuta, who used to cling to him every fucking second, that Nakamoto Yuta, has gone forever.

 

_How the hell is this a miracle in December._

 

He feels like he should throw something to let out the emotions blocking his chest. But let out what? The pain of heartbreaking? Or the betrayal and anger that Yuta walked on him first?

 

Sicheng just sits on the floor and stares at his newly unpacked luggage, seeing everything inside filled with their memory. For a second, Sicheng is not sure whether he should keep on unpacking, or simply throwing everything with the suitcases as a whole. It’d be even better if he can throw away all these dark feelings that are choking him to death.

 

It just fucking hurts to look at anything now.

 

How ironic. He, being Yuta’s newly turned ex-boyfriend, found out Yuta’s death through a person he barely knew. If he didn’t accidentally come across the eulogy Yuta’s former teammate posted on the Instagram, probably he is still stupidly waiting for Yuta, to show up at his door with his brand blinding smile and flowers and new game discs.

 

  
Fuck his friends and fuck what they said. What the fuck is ‘Out of respect for the death and not wanting to hurt you twice?’ _Respect my ass. Fuck you all. I know you all blame me, and he blamed me too, I know._

 

The sky is getting dark and the snow keeps falling. Sicheng just sits right there idly, in front of all the things that carry memories he wishes he could all cancel and forget and gradually he let his mind drift towards the darkness.

 

_Maybe in my dreams, there would actually be miracles, like turning back time or resurrecting the dead sort of things._

 

That was the last thought flashing through Sicheng’s mind, before he crosses the boundary between reality and dreams.

 

Outside the window, the freezing moonlight colors the snow into an icy blue shade.


	2. ...Wake Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes as soon as they open their eyes again.  
> Sicheng is full of hope but Yuta doesn't have a lick of that.

_“Winko, I got something to tell you.”_

 

 _“No, I’m totally serious, genuine and_ **_rational_ ** _. I’m breaking up with you.”_

 

_“Why…? ——No, nothing else. I didn’t fall in love with another person and I didn’t suddenly decide to become straight——It’s just... getting unbearably boring now.”_

 

 _“I know we’ve been together for so long, actually_ **_too_ ** _long. I suggest that we should explore and experience more interesting stuff within our limited time. Don’t you think so? Sorry, I know you hate it when I tell fortune-cookie-comment shits out of the blue and act like I know what I’m talking about.”_

 

_“Uh, I’ve booked you a hotel, with my card of course. So if that’s okay with you, you can stay there if you want or any other places you feel like. Just… don’t come back anytime soon. Oh, and everything is all yours. Take whatever you like. I don’t mind at all.”_

 

_Sicheng didn't get many chances to cut in throughout the conversation. Yuta seemed to have everything under control, like it had been planned and rehearsed over and over before. It feels like all he had to do was to wait for Sicheng coming back from his tour, not having any ideas what was gonna hit him. Blood boiled by rage, Sicheng shoved Yuta’s last hug aside, dragged his yet-to-be-unpacked suitcase and left immediately. He stayed in a hotel near the airport and flew the earliest flight back to Beijing the other day, not hesitated at all._

 

…

 

Sicheng was woken from the biting cold. That heartbreaking scene actually took place a couple days ago, nonetheless, it hurts like a fresh wound.

 

_I don’t think I will ever come to terms with that. I feel like my body is freezing and getting goosebumps and shit..._

 

_Fuck, it_ **is** _cold out here._

 

Sicheng found himself on the ground. The floor is so much harder, rougher and colder than where he remembered he slept the previous night.

 

No way Sicheng would treat himself this poorly. Even though it’s just a temporary shelter (well it should’ve been a temporary one if not… whatever), Sicheng wouldn’t consider any choices without thick and warm carpets on top of the solid wood floor, heated. Let alone the fact that there used to be Yuta warming his feet with body heat… _Whatever…_

 

With memories flooding back comes the overwhelming sadness. SIcheng feels that now he is finally ready to cry his heart out. But something is off. It’s almost like that he doesn’t have lacrimal glands. No fluid comes out of his eye. He looks up to the sky. The ceiling appears even higher than it was when he was still a toddler. Sicheng thought it was because he was lying on the ground so he tries to get back up.

 

_...Where are my arms and my hands and my legs?_

 

_...And why is there something so heavy on my back that I couldn’t support myself?_

 

_...Holy shit, did I just grow an extra pair of legs (or arms?) overnight?_

 

 _...Oh no, this better not be to Kafka’s_ _The Metamorphosis in reality. I ain’t gon be no beetle or cockroach of real person’s size. No, ma’am._

 

Sicheng looks around with his now compound eyes of an insect. Luckily, everything, the emergency lights, the handle of stairs, is all enlarged of the same proportion.   _Thank God I wasn’t a Kabuterimon._ Excluding the nightmare of becoming a huge insect, Sicheng barely accepts the cruel fact that now he is one of those anthropods with three pairs of jointed legs, and he begins to observe his surroundings.

 

Insects can’t tell different colors, so it takes some time and effort to fit the scenery in front of him into his past human life memory. But one thing for sure, this is definitely not the cute little apartment where he fell asleep last night. Besides, every corner of this space screams familiar to him——

 

“あれ？なぜここに蝶ですが？（Ale? Why is here a butterfly?）”

 

A voice fresh and delightful like the autumn sun echoes in this empty stairs. Joy overflows Sicheng’s chest. He manages to adjust his body and face his 15 thousand pairs of ommatidia towards the direction of the voice.

 

The man stares back at him, with his big cat-like eyes, full of astonishment. The smile he wears softens the sharp jawlines and masculine face. Sicheng has every detail, every wrinkle and every curve of this face, this smile memorized, but now seeing this was beyond excitement.

 

 _It’s Yuta! Yuta is still_ **_ALIVE_ ** _!!_

 

At this point Sicheng is just too busy to process any reasonable explanation of this. Is it because he has traveled to the past? Is it another parallel dimension? Or is he grieving enough to go crazy? _Who cares._ All Sicheng could think at this moment is to rush into that arms as fast as possible.

 

Only if he could. This new body just doesn’t work as Sicheng’s will. Goddamn, he has spare no blood, sweats, and tears trying to work every single muscle on his tiny body over and over again, yet he just succeeded standing up and moved forward merely 0.001 centimeters.

 

 _What level of stupidity of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai to consider becoming a pair of butterflies. They can literally do nothing but look pretty._  Sicheng is now dying to trade his wings for a pair of legs with some evil witch like the mermaid princess. _That girl is the true brain._

 

“Ohhhhhhhh, you little cutesy. You must’ve sneaked in to avoid the cold last night and forgotten the way out, did you?” Yuta sat on the stairs, holding his chins in his hands like a little boy, eyes fixed on Sicheng, “It has been really cold nowadays. It must be even colder for you.

 

Sicheng carefully observes the 100-time-magnified human being. There’s no doubt that this man right here, talking to a butterfly all seriously, is the Nakamoto Yuta he used to love and still madly does. The Yuta who has a heart of a child no matter what happened. The Yuta who is never afraid to look stupid. It’s just his charm. SIcheng holds his gape at Yuta, images from the past overlapping with this moment.

 

Sicheng nearly fell off stairs when Yuta outburst a sudden wave of laughter.

 

“Hahahahaha oh my God, you totally act like Sicheng with you gaping...Hahahaha just so alike.”

 

Jesus Christ, he could’ve been shook to death already by this heart attack, if butterflies do have a

heart. It’s purely the fault of Yuta’s unstable emotion status. He surely wasn’t drooling over Yuta’s godly handsome face and all those beautiful romantic stories. No. Nuh-uh.

 

Yuta tilts his head while Sicheng is struggling **HARD** to keep his balance, as if something is bothering him.

 

“Look at you. You can barely stand still. Must’ve been worn out by all your attempts to get out.” Yuta’s eyes light up as if he has come up with a brilliant idea. “Hey, gorgeous, how about me carrying you out?” Yuta bends down even closer, and extends his index finger as his offer. He beckons his finger to attract Sicheng’s attention.

 

Sicheng glistens his teeth one more time. Luckily, by virtue of his decade-long Chinese traditional dance practice, eventually, he manages to get a hold of his new fragile body. He flaps his wings and flew off ground. Then he lands on the tip of Yuta’s finger with lithe grace.

 

“Fasten your seat belt and don’t fell off.” Yuta gently places Sicheng on his shoulder. He smiles fondly towards the little creature and speaks in a joking tone: “And you should see yourself lucky. You could’ve got stepped on and smashed if it wasn’t me who are careful enough to save your ass.”

 

Yuta doesn't rush to stand up and keep walking, until Sicheng finds its perfect position.

 

In such a close view, Sicheng could actually notice lots of minor details that he overlooked over the years, like the slightest stiffness in his movement of straightening up, or the blink of frowning. All of them leads to an obvious fact that there's much pain in Yuta’s body and he has been constantly hiding that away from Sicheng.

 

_Or I’m just an oblivious idiot._

 

Sicheng can’t help wondering if there are much more scars and weaknesses Yuta has hidden from his sight, underneath that cover of his identical sunny smile. Yuta has always been the character of a goofy, bubbly optimist during their relationship and Sicheng took it for granted. Now that he has seen the crack of Yuta’s put-on, the idea haunts him that his ignorance consumed Yuta well.

 

_Perhaps I am to blame for Yuta’s death._

 

Guilt piles up above Sicheng’s head, making it difficult to breathe. A fresh cold breeze blows through the open door, relieving Sicheng’s uneasiness while almost blew him off. Sicheng holds on tight to Yuta’s scarf, trying to stay by his side.

 

Maybe this is it, the sign from above to wake him the fuck up, to guide him to save Yuta’s life. Since the book of destiny has already been turned back to the page prior to the tearful ending, Sicheng is never going to let it slip through his finger.

 

_This time, Imma bout to fight till the very last. Whatever it takes, however small the chances are_

 

_——I will save him._

 

================================================

 

The alarm went off for the third time. Growling in his throat, Yuta finally stretched a hand out from the quilt, felt his way to his phone and turned it off. The ringtone, Gu Ren Gui, is actually quite cool, kind of heroic. It fits perfectly with Sicheng’s character, someone whose Chunibyo is yet over in his late 20s.

 

Yuta looks at the other side of the double bed, only to find it empty. It is a rare scene given how Sicheng likes to sleep in. The fear of being choked to death is still fresh to Yuta when he tried to wake him up for the early flight once.

 

He got out of the bed while ruffling his wild chestnut cowlicks pointing every direction. He took off his pajamas, and open the closet. He was greeted with half side of empty space.

 

 _Right, it is the first day I break up with Winwin._ It’s not a short-time tour with the dance company, nor a hometown visit. He has **moved out**. Yuta suddenly doesn’t feel like dressing up. He randomly picks an outfit to get changed and walks into the living room. The mess from last night’s dramatic falling out has been cleaned up by the cleaning lady. The coffee splash over the wall has dried up, leaving an ugly stain.

 

Should he worry that the stain will piss Sicheng off once he comes back? Or should he concern about whether he will **ever** come back? Probably there’s no point in that. It wasn’t a peaceful breakup. Frankly speaking, Yuta has never confronted such a furious Sicheng, across the years they went from strangers to friends to lovers.

 

Yuta goes on his morning routine to the kitchen for his daily coffee. He sighs when he sees his mug alone on the shelf. It was the survived one of the couple set. The other one has been thrown to the wall and shattered into pieces by the outraging Sicheng. It’s a sad metaphor of their relationship.

 

_But life always goes on… doesn’t it?_

 

A simple question indeed. However, Yuta lost the answer a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My English is just terrible I can't read myself.  
> So hope my story is good enough kkkkkkkkkkk  
> Anyway, shout to me on Twitter!  
> https://twitter.com/ElusiveBurglar


	3. Regular with Irregular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuta is going to work!  
> You know everything regular.  
> Only with constant flashback and his butterfly.

Stuck in the subway train overcrowded as a sardine can, Yuta keeps relishing that fantasy encounter just now in the stairs. Saving a dying butterfly in his apartment building, to an anime worm like Yuta, is of no difference to finding the magical book by Clow Reed or Doraemon climbing out of his drawer. It’s purely surreal. It’s 99% protagonist-ish

 

_But no matter how childish and naive Peter Pan is, he would never lose his Wendy. That’s how real main characters of the story will do._

_Just not mine, though._

Yuta averts his eyes away from the disgustingly-in-love couple doing PDA near the gate and pretends he didn't hold the cold metal pole pathetically pretending that’s Sicheng’s slender body _at_ _all_.

 

As soon as the name flashed across his mind, Yuta starts to zone out from the earth.

 

Everything in the city somehow all reminds him of Sicheng to different extents. And especially that butterfly. Yuta can’t deny the level of pathetic but his train of thoughts never failed to come back the similarity that butterfly and Sicheng share.

First of all, the breath-taking beauty. The butterfly has a pair of pink wings with a black ring, flawlessly streamlined and beautifully stretched out, just like Sicheng in his usual flowy dancing clothes doing warm-up exercises. And secondly, _Toumeikan_       (?). They are the perfect embodiment of something “extremely delicate and light in a way that seems not to be of this world”. They are out    of this world as if they’re going to vanish any second. It invites to get a hold of them but you couldn’t bear restrain them at the least level. 

 

Last but the probably the most important, is that kind of stupidity, but in a good way. They are just too pure to know how the world works sometimes. A look of needing help was all Sicheng threw at him but shot Yuta like the love arrow of Cupid. Somehow the butterfly has similar effects over him. It’s probably just him thinking too much. 

 

He can’t even tell where the butterfly’s eyes are. Still, he identifies the way of this little insect looking at him with the way Sicheng did.

 

Yeah, exactly like what the one now over his shoulder in the window’s reflection is doing——

 

_——Wait, what?_

 

Yuta casts his eye down the relaxed butterfly on his shoulder, the one he saved and should’ve been gone moments ago. Having noticed itself being caught, it flaps wings, comfortable and unbothered. And that almost-shameless audacity reminds Yuta again of —— _Shit, can you stop for_ _more than_ _one second not to thinking about him, you useless whipped fuck?_

Yuta faces back to that pair of PDA lovers, acting like he didn’t care. But his side of the body pushes a little towards the less crowded part of the carriage. No, it’s **pure coincidence** that the said side is the side where the butterfly lies. And it’s definitely **not** because he worries if the fragile insect gets squeezed, **nor** because there’s so much about the said thing reminds him of Sicheng. 8

 

No, that’s a no no.

 

===========================================

 

Yuta ran into Dongyoung in the corridor who fresh out finished a math class across the door, holding a stack of papers and books. It is their cram school’s last week this semester. Every colleague is just getting more energetic and relieved as approaching to the finished line. Yuta met judging eyes of Dongyoung, immediately he wants to run away. There can’t be any moonlights or rainbows flying out of Dongyoung’s mouth, not when he’s having that shit eating smirk.

 

“Well, well, well, isn’t this the famous handsome the Nakamoto Yuta himself who graces the world?” Yuta was right. Dongyoung absolutely loves the idea of greeting with reading everyone for filth. “And you think your face isn’t distracting enough so you decided to add a butterfly pin on your collar? What are you, a teacher or some pimp? No wonder your class’s grades just suck.”

 

If it were normal Yuta, he would simply just snap back with savage like “it ain’t my fault that God didn’t feel like spending time on your face instead he recycled a bunny face” or “you’re simply jealous that students love me over you. oH wAiT tHEy dOn’t LoVE YoU aNyWay.”

 

But today he is just not feeling like bantering with his frienemy.

 

Dongyoung took his silence as need for proof. He snatched out his phone, and swiped out a group chat, showing to Yuta full of messages, photos and short clips of him and that goddamn butterfly —— holy Mariah Cowrey, there’s even a livestream room of him? Kids these days are outdoing themselves each and every day.

 

Yuta returns Dongyoung’s phone and yells at the students who are whispering to each other while touching up their foundation:

 

“One more time, double holiday work load! No joking!” One girl almost stuck her eyeliner into her eyeballs, the other slipping her lipstick and drawing half of Batman’s clown’s smile on her face.

 

And the sudden roar finally stirs the sleepy one from its God-knows-what dream. It lazily circles around Yuta’s collar, only to find no danger or emergency, then it mindlessly lands back on its original position. However, being a pussy he is, Dongyoung was shook by the resurgence of what he thought was an lifelike accessory. He has as much balls as a three-year-old girl, to say the least. _Is that sexism?_ Never mind, Yuta just could not laugh at Dongyoung dropping everything all the way jumping to hide himself behind Johnny’s back.

 

“Holy motherf*ckin’ cow, It’s… It’s **ALOIVE**!!!” Judging by the scream, Yuta is pretty sure that Dongyoung used to lead the choir and is high-key on the edge of shitting his pants.

 

“Calm down, Ariana Grande. Stop overreacting for skinny legend’s sake. It’s a butterfly not a——oh hi, Johnny! Didn’t see you coming~”

 

“Why do I feel I’ve been used as a synonym of monster or other shit?”Johnny deadpans towards Yuta, and sweeps off the shaking hands on his shoulder, “and you, Mr. Kim Dongyoung, relax and stop using me as your human shield. Find your own boyfriend, dude.”

 

“DIDN’T YOU SEE THAT? A F*CKING FLYING BUG!!”

 

“It’s a beautiful creature called butterfly, may I mind you.”Johnny rolls his eyes to Dongyoung, and extends out a finger for the butterfly to land itself, “ohhhhhh~ look at you, darling~ How did you even bring it here, Yuta?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t really know. I saved him in my stairwells this morning and I have no idea how he followed me to the subway and to here. And I don’t know why he follows me, either.” Naturally Yuta used ‘him’ referring to his butterfly. He finds it more intimate if he personalizes it.

 

“Hello? Annyeonghaseyo? Here’s Japan and we’re Korean, man. And it’s a goddamn fanfic written by a Chinese. Speak some relevant language, OK?” Dongyoung shouts to these two people speaking English, in distance of course, not wanting to breathe in the ‘butterfly’ air.

 

“Get educated, stupid.” A honey-fruity sweet voice came from the other end of the corridor. Next moment they realize, a small figure envelopes all over Johnny’s big body. None other than Ten, a feisty Thai teaching painting. He threw a side eye to the furious Dongyoung and then rest his head back his boyfriend’s chest. And Jaehyun, coming with Ten from literature, is trying his effort to hold back his angry bunny, while whispering soothing words. Finally he prevented the outburst of the DoTen World War 127.

 

The butterfly, amid this ongoing mess, stays there all calm and keeping together, enjoying the big scene. Yuta, on the other hand, stops and states the calming butterfly. All the people around and sounds appear to fade away.

 

Sicheng is calm and caring and everything a forest mountain exudes. When they had their little gathering, he used to just sit back and watch their friends snapping back or casually fighting each other. All Yuta’s attention and affection was bent to Sicheng’s way, the said young man unaware of.

 

_You on the bridge, try to enjoy the view_

_Not knowing you’re the view in someone else’s eyes._

_Moonlight decorates up your dreams_

_You yourself decorate dreams of other_

 

Rewinding the endless memories, Yuta was pull out of the trance by Ten’s tropical fruity screech. Johnny just retold Ten the story about Yuta and the butterfly. Now Ten’s catlike eyes are emitting abnormal pink lights and hearts:

 

“It has to be the butterfly fairy coming down to Yuta to reciprocate him with her love!! I knew it!! This is how it is in the movies and books!! I’ve read them on a red and white websites! Oh my god, isn’t this romantic, Johnny?” Ten is now looking at the butterfly so close and so hard that he looks like he’s gonna get cross-eyed, yet he doesn’t turn away, absorbed in his sweet sweet fantasy, “It isn’t scared of people! It must be a human transformed!! You should kiss it and love him!!”

 

“No. You, Chittaporn, should stop mix-watching _Brother Bear_ with _Twilight ot_ _Material Girls_ or whatever that’s poisoning your coconut head. ”

 

“No. You, Kim Bunnyface, should stop degrading arts!! They’re classics!! You take that back, bitch!”

 

Yuta waved to Johnny and Jaehyun who are having a hard time containing their boyfriends burning on fire, gesturing for his exit. After receiving their notice, he holds up his textbook and leaves the scene with his butterfly.

 

_His butterfly._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Things Come Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth and memories come back.  
> Sicheng gets the truth. Yuta gets the memories.

Sicheng is now resting on its belly on the delicate bouquet set on the café’s table, while stealing sneak peeks towards Yuta there drinking his coffee. This is what he does for the last two days besides flying within 2-meter distance and biting all kinds of plants. He is getting to grab a hold of this Rhopaloceral structure. However, other than that he is confused about everything. He doesn’t know why he woke up as a butterfly. He doesn’t know what time he woke up at. He doesn’t even know who Yuta is waiting for, or if he is waiting for anyone. 

 

Sicheng thought Yuta would try everything to get rid of him after Dongyoung and friends told him about him. But Yuta seems to accept his companion, comfortable or even a little happy about it. Before leaving the school, Yuta even gently laid him in his fluffy curly hair. And on his way home, he took a detour to the florist’s and bought a handful of roses, adding an extra special order to cut off thorns. Then he spent the whole afternoon weaving a small nest with those roses and some towels. 

 

Yuta’s place is nothing short of a safe haven to Sicheng now, not only because it shelters him from wild nature but also because this place preserves everything he knows from the previous human life. He and Yuta basically designed and hand décor their love nest. With every single piece of furniture, the small set of Naruto figures, and the big stickers of the cartoon version of them two on the windows, they build this place from a rough two-room apartment with four grey walls to a macaron-tone colored cozy space once mutually agreed as ‘home’. He never got into the bedroom they shared. But he ‘s 100% sure that this is the house he lived for the past decade. Hence, he’s sure that in this dimension, he and Nakamoto Yuta had met, known each other, fallen in love and for some reason, the human form Dong Sicheng is not here. 

 

As if to double prove his projection, the following days, they went to a series of places in this city, every one of which has their stories carved. Like the football field where he went cheering Yuta up for the first time, or the theater which Yuta showed up with a ridiculously gigantic banner with colorful LED embedded for the 116 th times, or that crossroad where they end up frenching each other on the New Year’s Eve despite calling it cheesy as canned afterward every time. Or here, his number 1 favorite café and that Americano at the opposite seat, just the way he always prefers, ice cold and a taste of bitterness. 

 

He takes a small sip, trying to bring back some old time flavor through his butterfly taste bud, only ending up disappointed by the monotone taste.  _ Guess this is how everything goes. They all eventually fades into dullness.  _

 

Before he could drown himself further into his dump of lost, a sudden weightlessness took over him. Yuta lifts up the bouquet, pinch out the flower where Sicheng rested, and put it in his pocket. After paying the bill, they headed out to the next destination.

 

“Alright, Lil’ thing~ Let’s go!” Cold breeze startles Yuta and makes it hard for him to open his eyes. Sicheng was well-protected. He watched the waitress cleaning up the table through the window. He felt a bit sorry about that cup of iced Americano, there alone, untouched, falling right into its fate of inclining into a vacant invitation. 

_ Oops, I’m sentimental again. Losing a lover twice and turned into an insect really did something to this cold-hearted bitch.  _

 

Yuta left without putting up a frown or pout. Sicheng hates Yuta for being so put together. Never loses the tiniest bit of his glamour, never cry for anything. Not when he fell down, not when he was in pain.  _ So how could he get hurt from standing straight? He didn’t even cry a single shed of tear when he broke a ten-year relationship plus a heart beating for him.  _

 

Sicheng shrinks himself to the extreme, keeping body warmth within his external bones. 

 

_ Damn, and I still love him.  _

  
  


——

  
  


“Sssshhhh...” Yuta gritted his teeth in the harshly cold wind unconsciously, still failing to keep his moans from leaking between his lips. Seeing Yuta in pain like this makes Sicheng’s heart broken like shattered glasses. Those annoyingly familiar bubbles of guilty have floated up again because Sicheng has never seen him like this. It got him questioning himself about his ignorance. 

 

He understands. Years of intensive training plus one time destroying knock-down, put Yuta in a place with no other option but to end his football career, at a young age of 28, right after him about to embarking his European league career. Sicheng could’ve never erased the memories of that night and those tears in silence, from his Yuta clutching to his sleeves, sobbing till the daylight. As a performer himself, Sicheng absolutely understands that draining desperation of going from a star athlete dashing on the green field, to now a patient who can’t get off the bed on his own. It’s just too much for Yuta to hurt on his own. So of course, Sicheng canceled all his tour as the lead dancer, just to stay with Yuta, to take care of him and moreover, to be there with him.

 

Yuta recovered astonishingly fast. Within less than a year, the old Yuta was back, running and laughing Mountain Man as he likes to describe himself. Maybe all those midnight wishes of Sicheng did work, or Yuta really had a body stronger than it looks. 

 

Sicheng tried to stay with him more, but Yuta insisted for him to hit the road ASAP, reasoning shit like “you need to be the breadwinner now that I’m the househusband or we’d end up STARVING and Imma leave ya broke ass for some old rich bitch”. Yuta was determined and his mouth was too PERSUASIVE. Then there’s Sicheng on the road again with his crew. Soon Sicheng got the relieving message that Yuta found himself a job in school teaching all the languages he initially prepared for conquering Europe. 

 

“Can’t waste that big money spent”, Yuta explained to Sicheng jokingly during their daily video call, when being asked why he didn’t think of teaching football. 

 

Rewinding the tape... Sicheng should’ve known better than to miss the blink of Yuta’s face falling when confronted. Think again. Was Yuta really OK all these years or was he just coasting and pretending all along? Sicheng has a blurry guess and he is terrified where it might go. 

 

Boots step on unmelted snow, making little crunchy noises. The small bumpy up-and-down ends as Yuta stops the bicycle carefully. Sicheng warms up his wings and flies off from the flower inside Yuta’s front pocket. Looking around, angelic white covers everything within the sight, blending the trees, the walls and the ground altogether. Butterflies can’t distinguish colors, but Sicheng remember this place all too well to not gasp over where he is, even if it’s all in monochrome

 

It’s the hall where he performed in Japan for the first time.

And it’s the place where Nakamoto Yuta met him for the first time.

 

——

  
  


“We are here!”

 

Boots step on the remaining snow, making little crunchy noises. Yuta walks towards the establishment no different to what his memories resemble. He stops his pace, releasing a long breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. White smoke embraces his cheekbone. The butterfly is prancing through the veil of mist, like a mythological creature from up above.

 

Yuta stands at the empty ground in front of the hall for a while. He kinda has to. He knows he is being delusional, but somewhere deep in the blinding white, he saw a slim  brunette jogging towards him, the sakura-blossom pink beret exuding the warmth and sweetness of Spring days. Turn around, there stands the same boy dancing with all flowy Chiffon jumpsuit like ancient Greek god decedent. He acts all cool like the breeze of Autumn but gets all blushed to his neck just from a side-eye of Yuta.

 

Ah, then there were himself, shrieking and daydreaming about getting a handful hold of that angel. No shame but all ambition.

 

“That’s enough. Let’s go.” Yuta spreads his palm, but the butterfly just playfully twirls around, landing itself on the tip of Yuta’s ear. Yuta catches the itchy sensation from the hairy feet of the insect. It’s like a naughty lover blowing air to his side mischievously. The level of intimacy startled Yuta for a second. He forcefully pushes his overlong temple hair to the back of his ear, sweeping away the butterfly. Then he starts to walk into the theatre.

 

There’s no show scheduled today. The hall is so quiet that you can almost hear the sound of air as the butterfly flapping its wings. After a brief greeting with the security guy around the entrance, Yuta walks past multiple live photos on display, straight to his destination. He has been here too many times to actually think about the route, or even check where he is now. All he needs to do is to count his steps. That’s how familiar he is with this place.

 

The butterfly is probably still adjusting to the warmth inside. Its action has slowed down a little, absentmindedly following Yuta.

 

“That’s it. Here we are.” The number he counted in mind matches with that in his memory. As Yuta turns around to face the photo he came to see, the butterfly seems to be out of its elements. 

 

It’s a gigantic collage of different artists with their divine moment shots attached together. There are world-famous legendary masters, as well as fresh newcomers who just had their major breakthrough; someone is Ciseauxing in the air, someone Pirouetting.  _ Dating the nerd for traditional dancing for years really gives you unnecessary knowledge.  _

 

But that’s not the point, at least not his. In the center right of the canvas stands a gorgeous boy with silky glossy black hair pouring down to his shoulder. The silhouette of his shoulder is fragile yet masculine. The collar hangs around, his delicate collar bone bare for appreciation. Chiffon smoothly embraces the slender body of the dancer, sketching the feature with the light and shadow contrast. The gradient from lime to Lazurite flatters his ivory skin tone, and fits with his age intricately between adolescence and adulthood. 

 

The best part about this portrait is that it perfectly catches the MOMENT in all motions. Despite the fact that there’s still blur from the moving legs and his arm covering half of his face, the other face was flawlessly captured. Every time Yuta looked at that picture, he’d wonder how an eye could be so expressive, serving fierceness at the inner corner and seduction at the outer corner simultaneously. His shown eye stares right into the lens, so sharp as if it pierces through the canvas, and directly into your heart, mind, and soul.

 

Sunlight falls through a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, shedding a warm patch on Yuta’s feet. The butterfly anxiously flies around and suddenly it began worming itself into Yuta’s front pocket. Yuta tilts his head and finds it endearingly amusing to watch the butterfly trying to hide in front of the picture. 

 

“What, my cutesy butt? Are you shy because you’re not as beautiful as him?” As if it understood Yuta’s teasing, the butterfly freezes, and it makes Yuta want to laugh even more.

 

“Yeah, I feel you. No one is even close to that level of beauty, not in this reality anyway.” Yuta chuckled at his not-so-exaggerated exaggeration, but seemed a little lost. He mindlessly mumbled the last couple of words, as if trying to convince the butterfly, or to remind himself of  _ THAT night _ . Like a spell that binds, everything started to come alive. Sicheng finished his pose on the stage. Then the deafening applause and screaming raved and blinding flashlights shined. Sweat was vapored by the heat. The flowing steam refracted the spotlight, glorifying Sicheng with a holy ring of halo, like a God coming down to earth. Finally moved Sicheng’s eyes. Sparkle pop in those two black pearls - 

 

And then he blinked.

And then he looked at him.

 

_ Marvelous, sensational, Genesis-like. _

Even the boldest, fanciest, most majestic words would come short of how Yuta remembered the moment Sicheng looked into his eyes the first time. 

 

“Yepp, he is just too perfect for his own good.”

 

_ And too perfect for me to ever deserve.  _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooooooooooooooooooo sorry that I didn't update it for a while.  
> It's just that I'm struggling with English.
> 
> Hope you understand and find the beauty I expect to convey.
> 
> My twitter @elusiveburglar

**Author's Note:**

> OMG my first English fanfic!!!  
> I'm not a native English speaker and I suck at writing.  
> Forgiving me for my basic vocabulary.  
> Shout out to JustCallMeJo who has helped me through.  
> I was bout to abort this child and she gave me the confidence to actually do it.  
> Twitter and Ins @ElusiveBurglar


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